The gym is loud, the kind of loud that makes your ears ring even after you leave. The game is intense, sweat, sneakers squeaking, the occasional curse when someone misses a shot. You’re not the best player here, but you hold your own. You laugh when Jake trips over his own feet, and you high-five Matt when he sinks a three-pointer.
Halfway through, someone calls a timeout. You collapse onto the bleachers, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. An ad pops up on the screen, some bright, cartoonish thing about "diapers for modern men." You roll your eyes and shove it back into your pocket.
"Can you believe this shit?" Mark says, nudging you with his elbow. He’s pointing at a billboard across the street, one of those new ones with a man in a diaper, grinning like an idiot. The caption reads, "Real men embrace their inner boy!"
"You’re telling me," you scoff, shaking your head. "Feminists are really pushing this toddler crap. Like, what’s next? Mandatory pacifiers?"
The guys laugh, and you join in, your voice blending with theirs. It’s easy to play along, to act like the idea of men in diapers is ridiculous. You shift slightly on the bleacher, feeling the thick padding between your legs, the crinkle of plastic hidden beneath your basketball shorts. No one knows. No one suspects.
"Seriously, though," Jake chimes in, wiping his face with his shirt. "My girlfriend’s been talking about this new study. Says it’s ‘empowering’ for men to give up control. Like, what the hell? I’m not letting some chick turn me into her baby."
You snort, crossing your arms. "Yeah, right. Like any of us would let that happen."
The game starts again, and you throw yourself back into it, the rhythm of the game drowning out the nagging thought in the back of your mind. The thought that maybe, just maybe, you’re already there.
The game ends, and you say your goodbyes, slinging your bag over your shoulder. The walk home is quiet, the streets bathed in the orange glow of streetlights. You can feel the weight between your legs, the warmth spreading as you walk. You’ve been filling your diaper for hours.
You finally reach your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you. The silence is a relief, the weight of the day lifting slightly. You drop your bag by the door and kick off your shoes, already reaching for the waistband of your shorts.
"Hey, baby."
Her voice cuts through the silence, and you freeze. You turn slowly, your heart pounding. She’s leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. You swallow hard, your fingers still hooked in the waistband of your shorts.
"Did you have fun with the boys?" she asks, pushing off the doorway and walking toward you. There’s something in her tone, something that makes your stomach clench.
"Y-yeah," you stammer, your voice cracking slightly. "Just a game."
She stops in front of you, her eyes flicking down to where your fingers are still gripping your shorts. "Good. Now let’s see how my good boy did tonight."
Before you can protest, her hands are on your waist, pulling your shorts down in one swift motion. The cool air hits your skin, and you can feel the heat rising in your face. Your diaper is swollen, the front sagging and discolored.
She lets out a soft, approving hum. "Look at you. Such a good boy, peeing all afternoon for Mommy."
Your breath hitches, the words sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel your face burning, but there’s something else, too something warm and fuzzy in your chest.
She kneels in front of you, her hands running over the front of your diaper, pressing gently. "Did it feel good? Being out with your friends, knowing you were Mommy’s little secret?"
You nod, your throat too tight to speak. It did feel good. Better than the game, better than the laughter, better than anything else tonight.
She stands, cupping your face in her hands. "That’s my good boy. Now let’s get you cleaned up, huh?"
You nod again, your body relaxing into her touch. The embarrassment is still there, but it’s drowned out by the warmth in your chest, the relief of finally being seen. Of finally being you.
Lily signed up for the Cheerleading Team, thinking she would be a perfect fit! Unfortunately, the only thing she would fit into was a cramped locker, the cheer squad refusing to even CONSIDER a loser like her for the team, as she squirms in her tight bondage.
Suffice to say, I don't think she'll be getting out of there any time soon...
A commission for Lily!
Make sure to check out SubscribeStar for much more~!
subscribestar.adult/34qucker
"Let's get you out of these clothes, you won't need them any more. And such a cute butt too, it's going to look so good plugged up."
Victoria felt her arousal grow between her thighs as her freshly caught new slave squirmed uselessly beneath her. This one would make a fine addition to her basement.
I’d like to see more content of littles who just like,… don’t care
As an example: no matter what, they’re not holding it. Their CG can have them in undies, a pull up, a triple boosted diaper, bottomless, it doesn’t matter. They’re not holding it. It’s not their job to hold it. They’re not focusing on it because they have more important things to do! So their CG’s job is to make sure that whatever happens, they’re prepared to either clean it up or contain it.
Another thought: arrested development. No matter what happens, they’ll only ever be so big. Bring them to a restaurant and they’re gonna order off the kids menu. Bring them to the zoo and they’ll display childlike wonder. When they’re tired, they can’t even try to hold in their emotions. They are who they are, and it’s CG’s responsibility to happily take care of them, not to try to make them the adult that they just can’t be.
The idea of someone "potty training" me and acting really sweet and nice but secretly making their goal to un-potty train me and slowly break me down into a baby is like my biggest fantasy... I have an accident and she's very insistent on it so I'm like, okay, whatever, I'll play along. I'm an adult with a functional bladder anyway, so it's not like I'll actually need to use these training underwear. And at least they're fabric ones, it's not like they're pull ups or diapers or anything.
She loads me up on water and juice and is taking me to the potty every 15 minutes before our road trip, so I'm "plenty hydrated, but can still get it all out before we get going!" I'm still allowed to use the big potty toilet, for now, as long as she walks me over and holds my hand while I go. I don't know what "rapid desperation" is, but I do end up peeing a little every time, since I've been drinking so much water and juice. And... the attention is nice. The way she says "good job, baby boy!" after every time I go makes my whole face red with embarrassment, but it also makes me feel really good. Like I did a good job and she's proud of me.
Then comes the road trip to our weekend getaway It's a short one, only 2 hours. Usually on a drive that short I wouldn't even need to think about the bathroom. But this time... Oh boy. I'm looking around frantically about halfway through, even though I know there are no rest stops nearby. I'm pressing my legs together as tightly as I can, trying not to show how badly I need to go. She clocks it right away, of course. "Do you need the potty?" She asks, sounding a little amused. My face goes red again.
"Nooo..." I say. I sound horribly unconvincing. Horribly unconvincing and small. That's not allowed, stop that. I straighten up in my seat. "I, uh. I could use the bathroom for sure. But, I think I can hold it?" Big voice. That's better.
(readmore bc this got Long!) sorry
"Are you sure?" She says, a knowing look on her face. "You look pretty tense. If you need to go, I brought a potty— it's in the trunk. I can pull over."
I shake my head. "I think I'll be fine. I should be good. Let's just focus on something else." I try to keep my eyes on the road.
About twenty minutes later, the urgency has only gotten worse, and I realize that I just leaked. We were listening to an episode of a podcast, something about dinosaurs, and it was making me laugh, and a little piss spurted out, I can feel the warmth of it and then the rapid cooling as the wet spot soaks into my training underwear. I frantically feel the front of my jeans. No wetness yet. But I need to go. The pressure is intense, I can feel it continuing to build up and I rock back and forth in my seat a little. "I really, really have to go," I admit with a whine.
"The potty's right back there, baby." She reminds me. "Want me to pull over? It's our last chance before we get into town."
I briefly consider it, but... I really don't want to use that potty, especially not on the side of the road where someone might drive by and see me. "No," I insist, although my confidence in my bladder is shrinking. "I think I'll be okay."
Twenty minutes later, I am not okay. I'm leaning forward in my seat with my head and arms resting on the dashboard, hunched over my bladder, trying desperately to keep everything in. I can't do it, I leak again. It's a big one this time. I don't even need to check to see if it's showing through the front of my pants, I know it is. I need to go, the strain on my bladder hurts. I let out a moan, muffled by my arms. "I need to go, I can't hold it, can you please pull over, please," I beg, even though I know the answer. We're in town now, so I can't do that, everyone would see, and I can't let go, because I'm in her car, so I have to hold it.
She puts a hand on my shoulder. "Just a little further, baby. Almost there."
When we get to the airbnb place, I almost lose it as soon as I step out of the car. I stagger towards the door, then freeze as I leak again, substantially. There's a huge wet patch halfway down my legs when I manage to get it to stop. I can't do words, it's too much. Luckily, she interprets what I need, and grabs the potty from the trunk and tugs me inside.
I don't even think about the potty or what it looks like. I'm grateful when she sets it on the floor behind me, and I shove my half-wet pants and the utterly soaked training underwear down to my ankles and sit down and piss, my stream audibly spraying the plastic. It feels like I'm going forever. It's a few moments before the relief kicks in, and I sigh as the tension slowly leaves my body along with the contents of my overfull bladder. I worry, irrationally, for a moment that I might overfill the potty. But it's an adult-sized one, and it has plenty of room.
As my flow peters off, the stream going from a spray to a stream to a dribble, I can see the situation more clearly and I begin to realize how embarrassing it is. I'm sitting on the potty, a white plastic thing adorned with primary colors, and my cold, soggy pants and training undies are down around my ankles. I "made it," sure, technically, but I only made it to the plastic training potty right in front of the door, and I sure leaked a substantial amount— my pants are soaked. I shamefully wipe myself, although my legs are damp with piss too. I'll need a shower if I don't want to get a rash.
I stand up, trying to decide what to do about my wet pants. I know I shouldn't just walk upstairs with my pants around my ankles, but I'm not asking her to get new pants for me, that would be rude. But I can't make myself pull the cold wet pants up, or take my shoes off, they're wet and yucky too, so I can get the pants off.
It's all just a little too much, and to my further embarrassment, I start to cry. I'm trying not to, so it's quiet. But I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I sit back down on the potty. I'm sure she's going to hate me. She's been watching from afar, but now she comes closer.
"What's wrong, honey?" She asks. Her voice is soft. I can't get the words out at first, but she's patient. She puts her hands on my shoulders. I hold onto them.
"I, it's yucky, I'm yucky," I manage to get out before the crying starts again and cuts me off. I just wanna get clean and dry but I'm not sure how to make that happen at the moment, I'm crazy overstimulated and embarrassed and regressed, which I've never done around her, I shouldn't let myself, but I can't make myself be big right now, it's just not happening.
"Okay, baby. Want me to make it better?" She asks.
She's... not mad? I nod. I need her to make it better, I need her help. She begins undoing my shoes, and I start crying again, because they're yucky and she's so nice and she shouldn't have to touch them just to help a stupid baby like me. But she does, and takes them off, then slips my wet pants off as well. Then, she offers me her hand, and I take it, and follow her upstairs wordlessly. She's murmuring little encouragements to me.
We get to the bathroom, and I wait for her to turn on the shower, or to leave me to do it, but she starts a bath, instead. And she puts bubbles in it. Then she takes my shirt off and tells me to get in, so I do.
The water is warm and comfy and it immediately washes away the drying pee that was starting to get a little itchy on my legs. And she brought me a bath toy, the kind that suctions onto the wall and you can pour water in and watch it go through different little sections, along with cups in bright primary colors to pour the water. I reach for it, then hesitate. I'm not supposed to be little, it's already too much for me to be accepting the bath like this. She smiles. "Can you help me out? I need someone to please pour some water in the toy for me. I want to make sure it works."
I nod. I can do that. I am a good helper. I take the little blue cup on the rim of the tub and diligently pour a cupful of bath water into the toy. It dribbles down and makes the sections spin. I smile. It's cool! I pour another cup, then another, forgetting myself and my reservations entirely. I like the bath.
She watches me play, and joins in with the yellow cup, splashing me occasionally. I giggle. Eventually, the tub starts to get cold, and I'm getting a little hungry and sleepy. She pulls the plug and allllll the water goes down the drain. Bye bye bath time.
I step out and dry off. She gets me dressed in some comfy pajamas and then we go downstairs and eat the dinner we packed for tonight. I'm so sleepy after the ordeal of the day. I normally would have slept on the drive over, but I didn't due to my desperation.
I use the bathroom, again with her supervision, and then I'm ready for bed. I'm about to climb in under the covers when she stops me. "Baby, one second."
I stop, yawning. "What's up?"
She's holding something in her hands. I squint. Is that a diaper? "Is that a diaper?" I ask, out loud, realizing I've just been standing there staring.
"No, no," she reassures me. "It's just a nighttime pull-up. Just for tonight, you know? I know you ended up making it to the potty today, but you still left quite a mess. And I had to clean it up, you know."
"I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, crestfallen. I hadn't even thought about the dribbles I must have left on my way to the potty, or my soaked pants and shoes, or anything. She had cleaned them up and not even said a word. Guilt lodges itself in my stomach. "You didn't have to do that, I really am sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you, somehow. Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes, there is." She says, putting it simply. "You can wear one of these tonight." She waggles the nighttime pull-up up and down with her hands. "That way, we can guarantee there are no more accidents. Is that okay with you?"
I nod, my face going red again. I don't want to, but... I do want to make it up to her. So I put it on, and we both go to bed.
Hiya everyone! i have some awesome news to share :3 Potty Training Dropouts is hosting a big sweepstakes raffle! You have the chance to win some goodie bags, gift cards, an ABDL high chair, AND ABDL crib!
You can enter by purchasing a pack of diapers or other goodies from their site or by sending a letter to Riff at their HQ
AND you can use code “bbyybratt” for 5% off your order when you enter!!
more info here
code “bbyybratt” for 5% off
Official Rules and Regulations NO PURCHASE NECESSARY TO ENTER OR WIN. A PURCHASE DOES NOT INCREASE YOUR CHANCES OF WINNING. VOID WHERE PROHI
the best thing about keeping her in diapers is that there are so many ways to casually embarrass her:
“Honey, do you need to be changed, or are you still good? Just want to make sure you’re comfy, okay?”
"You’re waddling a bit, sweetie. Let me check if you’re wet. No need to act shy, it’s just us.”
"Oh, let’s not worry about finding a bathroom today, okay? Just relax, and we’ll take care of you later.”
“It’s a long car ride, so I think it’s best we make sure you’re extra protected today.”
“Nobody’s gonna notice. I mean... Daddy can hear you crinkle when you walk, but I’m *sure* nobody else can tell."
"It's not obvious. They'll just think your butt looks cute. They're not gonna guess that you're still in diapers at your age."
“Let’s get ready to go. Can you bring your daytime bag in the car for Daddy?”
“Yes, honey, we do need to pack your changing pad this time. There probably isn’t gonna be a family restroom with a changing table big enough for you...”
"Make sure to tell me if you feel wet down there, sweetheart. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to pull you aside in front of your friends, and you’re not gonna like that.”
“She’s been having a lot of issues lately… yes, all the time now. We’re just trying to make sure she’s comfortable.”
“Honey, come here… you’re looking a little squirmy. Is there something you need to tell me?"
“Do you have a quiet room somewhere where I could take care of her? We’ll just be a minute.”
“Oh - do you think I could borrow some wet wipes? We just ran out.”
"Sweetheart, could you come with me to your friend Katie's bedroom for a minute? I just need your help with something real quick."
"She'll be right back."
“Oh baby... you’re soaked! Why didn’t you tell me? Did you know you had an accident?”
“Do you want to be a big girl for Daddy? You do? Good girl. You need to stop fussing and hold still so we can get you changed.”
“Yes, I know you don’t want to smell like baby powder in front of your friends. But we don’t want you to get a rash...”
"It’s so much easier now that you don’t have to worry about the bathroom, isn’t it?"
"I had to explain to the hotel staff why we needed the mattress protector. They were super understanding, though…”
“It’s okay... No one expects you to stay dry at night, sweetie. You haven’t had a dry morning in months.”
“Let’s put a towel down under you for the movie… just in case."
“Can I borrow her for a minute?”
“Let’s get your shirt tucked in back there. You were sticking out of your pants a little bit.”
"Maybe we should try a onesie for you when we get back home, huh? We could button you up, so you don't keep accidentally... showing off. Would you like that?"
"Hold still please. I need to check your diaper. It’s gonna be a lot quicker if you stop squirming.”
“Now. Come here. We need to get you ready for nighttime. I don't want any arguments.”
"Aww, you want to try to use the potty tomorrow? How about we try that another day? We’re not ready for potty training with you right now."
"You looked so cute today when you tried to act like a big girl.”
baratheonpilled
blakekathryn
discoholicmusic
vaporwave
origamiaround
ellievsbear
pixelskylines
theartofmadeline
